


elephant on the dance floor

by thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Romance, takitsuba's wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2019-01-16 03:25:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12334542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Everybody thinks that Senga and Nikaido are having a thing, except Senga and Nikaido.





	elephant on the dance floor

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for je-devilorangel 2013 with mousapelli.

By the time they get back to their hotel room, Senga is lit up and exhausted, cheeks sore from grinning and muscles aching from dancing, and he has to practically drag in Nikaido. In short, it’s exactly like after every Takizawa-run concert or show ever, except that he’s still more than a little drunk. Also, this really this hadn’t been anything like any show Tackey had ever put on before.

“Can you believe they’re actually married?” Senga asks, starry-eyed, and Nikaido grunts from the bed where he’s sprawled on his back, fully dressed. Senga’s having trouble fumbling the buttons of his dress shirt open, tie still hanging loose around his neck. “Tackey really can do anything.”

“President said he could,” Nikaido mumbles.

But even though that’s true, nobody had really expected Tackey to take Johnny up on his public words, and certainly they hadn’t expected Tsubasa to go along with it quietly, even when Tackey announced World Wing Wedding would simply have to take place at Yokohama Arena because Tackey wanted to keep it small and tasteful after all.

“Honestly I was afraid he’d rent Tokyo Dome again,” Tsubasa had said during a variety show interview, grimacing a little before the brilliant grin won back out. “You know that jerk proposed during concert dress rehearsal? I was on the wires and he told the staff not to let me down unless I said yes.”

Even though Yokohama is certainly close enough to get back to Tokyo after the reception, Tackey had booked a block of hotel rooms for anyone who wanted to stay and try to drink as much as SMAP. All of Kis-My-Ft2 took him up on his offer, as well as most of the others who were old enough to take that challenge, and Senga can hear Kawai’s laughter coming through the wall from the room next door, joined by Fujigaya’s cackle a second later.

“At least he’s not still crying,” Senga says when Nikaido made a pained face at the noise. He chuckles, remembering how Fujigaya had bawled harder during the vows than he ever had at any Arashi concert. Senga reaches down to nudge Nikaido’s thigh. “Get undressed. And go drink some water or you’ll be a mess in the morning.”

“Kenpiiiiiii,” Nikaido whines, not even trying to move. Senga only sighs a little as he helps Nikaido tug off his slacks and shirt, then goes to the bathroom to drink a glass of water himself before refilling it to bring back to Nikaido.

The grateful smile Nikaido gives him is thanks enough anyway. Senga hits the lights and crawls into bed, sighing happily as his tired limbs finally relax against the mattress. Nikaido curls up along Senga’s side, throwing an arm over his chest, and that feels good too, the warmth between them soothing and familiar. Senga’s still too keyed up to sleep right away, but he’s happy where he is, enjoying the way Nikaido’s chest rises and falls in time with his own.

“Hey,” Nikaido says after a couple minutes, long enough that Senga thought he would be asleep. Nikaido’s hand drifts down Senga’s stomach to brush the front of his underwear. “Wanna fool around?”

Senga’s groan prefaces his thinking, which works for him since Nikaido takes that as consent and presses their mouths together. It’s far from the first time this has happened, but Senga still gets a little prickle of shock when their lips touch, like his body had forgotten since the last time. But all at once he remembers, accepting Nikaido’s kiss that’s strong and a little sloppy as he rolls halfway on top of Senga and lowers his hand enough for Senga to gasp.

He reaches down to return the favor, finding Nikaido’s cock already half hard and swallowing his faint moans when Senga’s fingers curl around it. Neither one wastes any time, stroking the other as tongues slide together like it’s an afterthought, though that’s mainly Nikaido’s influence. If it was up to Senga, maybe it’d last a little longer, or there would at least be a smidgen of foreplay before they’re racing for orgasm, but this is just a casual thing after all. He can be slow and sensual when he gets a girlfriend.

Nikaido comes first, as usual, though Senga doesn’t mind when Nikaido’s noises are so enticing and Nikaido clings to him as he shudders out his orgasm. It turns Senga on even more, though he has to nudge at Nikaido’s lax hand to remind him that Senga’s not done. He only whines a little bit as he flicks his wrist, using his thumb just under the head in the way that drives Senga crazy, and Senga feels Nikaido’s hooded eyes on him as he writhes beneath him on the bed.

“Gonna,” Senga gets out, and Nikaido moves faster as Senga arches and spills over those long fingers. “Mm, Nika.”

A tired grunt sounds in response and Senga rolls his eyes, knowing the only way they’ll get cleaned up is if he does it himself. As he leans up to reach for the tissues, he notices the other bed in the hotel room, still neatly made and completely empty. Their luggage wasn’t even on it to deter anyone from sleeping there. Something tugs at his brain as he wipes them down and snuggles back into Nikaido’s embrace, both of their heartbeats slowing down, but he’s too sleepy to focus on it.

In the morning, Senga wakes up to someone shaking his shoulder. When he squints up at Yokoo, his heart races with panic.

“What time is it?!” he demands. “Are we late?! Are we supposed to be on-stage?!”

“We’re not on tour, idiot,” Yokoo soothes, patting Senga’s head. Senga goes limp with relief as he remembers where he is. Nikaido hasn’t so much as budged, eyes darting back and forth and only seeing whatever he’s dreaming about. “But checkout is in an hour, so you might need pants for that.”

Senga sticks his tongue out, and Yokoo turns to go back through Fujigaya and Kawai’s room, wake-up call officially given. He pauses in the doorway to look back over his shoulder.

“Have you told anyone?” he asks.

“About what?” Senga furrows his brow, then follows Yokoo’s line of sight down to Nikaido, sleeping on his chest and quite plainly naked under the sheets. He flushes a little when he realizes that Yokoo thinks they’re  _together_. “Oh! Oh no, there’s nothing to tell.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Yokoo says gently. The way he’s looking at Senga makes Senga feel a little uncomfortable, even though Senga realizes of course Yokoo must think that, finding them like this.

“It’s nothing,” Senga repeats. “Don’t worry about it.” Yokoo shrugs and shuts the door behind him. Senga’s stomach feels tight and unpleasant, probably still from last night’s drinking, He lies there a while longer, reluctant to have to wake up Nikaido and to get out of bed.

Yokoo doesn’t approach Senga about it again in the next few days, and Senga supposes that will be the end of it. It’s not until Fujigaya all but begs him to go shopping during his next free afternoon that Senga realizes Yokoo hadn’t forgotten about it at all.

“So,” Fujigaya says as soon as they’re tucked in the corner of a Starbucks for a break, their bags shoved awkwardly under their chairs. “Watta says you and Nika-chan are having a thing.”

“We’re not,” Senga says, glancing nervously at the other people in the shop. It’s busy enough that no one is paying them any mind, though, the buzz of conversation and yelled orders absorbing their words. Senga has to admit Fujigaya probably chose this place on purpose, caffeine addiction aside. “Ouch!” he snaps when Fujigaya flicks him hard in the forehead.

“Don’t lie,” Fujigaya says, using his stern senpai voice, and Senga rolls his eyes. “He woke you up naked and all in a tangle. Give me the dirt already.”

“Okay, that’s true,” Senga admits. “But it’s not a…thing. It’s just, you know, us. We just do that sometimes.”

“That’s a thing,” Fujigaya says.

“It’s not!” Senga heaves a sigh of frustration. “We’re just close! He’s my best friend, of course we tried out some of that stuff together. You never fooled around with your best friend, just to do it?”

“Sure,” Fujigaya agrees. “When I was fourteen. You’re twenty-two, so I don’t know how much more there is to figure out. Unless you guys are trying to invent a new position…look, don’t get mad at me about it,” he says when Senga opens his mouth to argue. “It doesn’t bother me. Really, I think it makes a lot of sense.”

“It doesn’t, because it’s not like that,” Senga cuts him off. “I love Nika a lot and all of that, but sometimes he’s just there and it feels better with somebody else and that’s it. Maybe if somebody,” Senga gives Fujigaya a dark look, “wasn’t Mr. Friday, then a girlfriend might be an actual possibility.”

“Okay, okay.” Fujigaya backs off. “No need to hit below the belt. Drink your coffee and let’s get out of here, I still need a new hat.”

Fujigaya is still eyeing him as they go on with their trip, though, and his thoughtful gaze makes Senga uncomfortable, like Yokoo’s had in the hotel room. When they’re parting ways at the train station, Fujigaya hesitates a second longer than is casual.

“We wouldn’t care, you know,” he says, and Senga knows they’re back on their earlier topic without Fujigaya actually saying. “You two…we’d be happy for you. It’s not like you could ever hate each other, so I wouldn’t even be worried about the group.”

“Okay,” Senga says instead of arguing, because it’s just easier and Senga knows that Fujigaya means well. For a moment it feels like Fujigaya wants to hug him, but there’s people all around. The moment passes, and Fujigaya says goodbye and strolls off towards his platform. Senga feels warmed by Fujigaya’s support, even if it’s for nothing, and the warmth stays with him the whole way home.

He’s feeling a lot less pleasant towards Fujigaya a few days later, because ever since they talked about it, Senga has been noticing that maybe the way he and Nikaido are together isn’t exactly nothing. It’s not like he doesn’t have a huge basis for comparison to excuse his ignorance—he’s spent half of his life working with all men. He knows damn well that he and Nikaido act differently with each other than either one of them does with anyone else. Up until recently, he’d thought that’s just how best friends were.

“Do you think we’re having a thing?” he asks curiously the next time they hang out. They’re at Nikaido’s place, family everywhere but not within hearing distance, and Nikaido’s halfway in Senga’s lap as he jerks around a video game controller.

“A thing?” Nikaido repeats, sounding unbothered about the question and more concerned about the boss he’s taking down on the TV screen. “What do you mean?”

“You know, like a  _thing_ ,” Senga emphasizes, frowning at the way Nikaido wrinkles his nose in confusion. “Between the two of us.”

“I don’t get it.” Nikaido pauses the game and looks from Senga to himself then back to Senga. “I don’t see anything.”

Senga rolls his eyes and whacks him on the back of the head. “You don’t see it, stupid.”

“What are you talking about even?” Nikaido asks impatiently. He’s starting to get irritated, Senga can tell, but it just aggravates Senga as well since he doesn’t really know how else to say it without being completely blunt.

“Don’t you think that the things we do together are a little…much?” Senga tries, staring hard into Nikaido’s eyes like that alone will make him understand.

Nikaido just blinks. “Are you tired of me?”

“What? No!” Senga rushes to grab onto Nikaido’s shoulders before he can pout. Nikaido’s pouts are dangerous. “That’s not what I’m saying!”

“Then what are you saying?” Nikaido throws down the controller and narrows his eyes, giving Senga his full attention. He also has the attention of Nikaido’s mother, who’s peering in from the kitchen undoubtedly from her son’s volume.

“Let’s go to your room,” Senga says, pulling Nikaido by the wrist before the other man can protest. Surprisingly Nikaido follows silently, flopping onto his bed while Senga closes the door and approaches him carefully. “We act like we’re dating!” he finally explodes.

That seems to get through to Nikaido, whose face becomes void of anger as he processes those words. “No we don’t.”

“Yes we do!” Senga exclaims. “I’ve been more intimate with you than any girl I’ve had sex with.”

“You’ve had sex with girls?” Nikaido asks incredulously.

“You haven’t?!” Senga replies, just as surprised, but shakes his head. “That’s besides the point. Both Watta and Gaya think we’re having a thing, because Watta walked in on us in bed the morning after Tackey & Tsubasa’s wedding.”

Nikaido makes an unimpressed noise. “Like they’ve never done that before.”

“That’s what I said!” Senga says, grateful to have someone on his side. “Apparently it’s supposed to be something you grow out of.”

“Oh, Kenpi.” Nikaido laughs and leans back on his bed, looking relieved. “You pay too much attention to what other people say. We are clearly not dating. We don’t have those kinds of feelings for each other, right?”

“Right,” Senga answers slowly.

“Then we’re not having a thing or whatever you call it.” Nikaido sighs. “All this talk about doing it makes me want to do it. Come here.”

When Senga is slow to move, Nikaido reaches over and yanks him down onto the bed by the wrist. He crawls over top of Senga, bracing himself on his hands to look down at Senga’s face while he rolls their hips together.

“What?” Senga asks, looking to the side. It’s hard to look Nikaido in the face while Nikaido watches him so openly. It doesn’t stop Senga getting hard though, and he can already feel Nikaido doing the same against him.

“Tell me about it,” Nikaido orders. “With the girl.”

That makes Senga snap his eyes back to Nikaido, narrowing them when Nikaido only grins back without any shame. “You want to hear about girls while we’re doing this?”

“Why not?” Nikaido shrugs, rocking down a little harder. “It’s hot. Come on, tell me. How many have there been?”

_Fuck it_ , Senga thinks, not like he was keeping a secret exactly. “Three. Well, only two that let me fuck them.”

“Yeah?” Nikaido stops moving, and Senga wonders if it’s weird for him too, but it turns out Nikaido is only shoving his track pants out of the way to wrap a hand around himself. “What’s it like? It’s good, right?”

“Of course,” Senga answers automatically, trying to fumble his own cock free because it’s definitely weird for Nikaido to be the only one jerking himself off while Senga talks. “They feel good on the inside, you know, wet and stuff, and they squeeze around you on their own.”

“Damn.” Nikaido’s eyes are half-closed as he obviously imagines it. Senga wonders if he’s imagining himself with a girl, or Senga with one. Senga tries to remember what it was like, but all he can really think about is Nikaido on top of him, his thigh muscle flexing under Senga’s hand, his weight on Senga’s hips. “What did the other one do?”

“The other what?” Senga asks, thoughts interrupted, then remembers he was talking about girls. “Oh! She blew me.” Nikaido looks down at Senga’s fist wrapped around his cock, and Senga has to bite his lip to keep from moaning. When Nikaido looks back up, his eyes are dark and his lips are pressed together in a thin line, and something about it makes Senga’s heart skip a beat. “What?”

“You ever try that with anybody?” Nikaido asks. Senga shakes his head, but before he can ask any questions, Nikaido is already sliding down Senga’s legs and knocking Senga’s hand out of the way, and Senga is too shocked to stop him from doing whatever he wants.

Nikaido’s mouth is already around him before his brain catches up with his body; clearly Nikaido has done this before, the realization sending a small surge of irritation through Senga. He can’t be jealous, after all, because they’re not having a thing, but he doesn’t like the idea of Nikaido sucking off anyone else very much. Though he’s inclined to overlook it since the experience means Nikaido swallows around the head of Senga’s cock without hesitation, well aware of his own limits and how much he can take without gagging, which is more than Senga can say for that girl.

He starts to moan, then remembers where he is and bites it back, taking out his frustration on Nikaido’s hair. It’s shorter than he would like, but long enough to serve the purpose and the hitch of breath from between his legs tells him that Nikaido likes it too. He keeps his hand there, gently guiding Nikaido’s head when he starts to go too fast, which does nothing to slow Nikaido down and Senga just ends up threading his fingers through Nikaido’s hair from the pressure.

“Nika, fuck,” Senga gasps, hips rolling automatically into the suction of Nikaido’s gorgeous mouth. “Slow down or I’m going to finish.”

Nikaido’s eyes shine through his bangs and Senga can almost see the challenge within them, at least until Nikaido moves even faster and sends Senga’s eyes rolling into the back of his head. He can’t keep his mouth closed, his breaths quickening with each squeeze of Nikaido’s throat around his length, and he only makes it a few more seconds before he’s moaning out a warning and shuddering out his orgasm, which he belatedly realizes is swallowed.

“Oh my god,” Senga breathes, the world seeming to spin all around him despite being perfectly still. “That was so good, Nika.”

“Good, now you can do it to me,” Nikaido says pointedly, flopping next to Senga on the small bed and pushing down on his shoulders. “Be careful, since you haven’t done it before. Don’t try to take too much at once.”

Senga makes a face at getting blowjob advice from this guy, but all he does is gather the energy to push himself up on his elbows and lean over Nikaido’s lap. His heart is still racing, and being nose-to-tip with Nikaido’s dick isn’t slowing it down any. He could say no, Nikaido wouldn’t force him to do something like this, but then Senga thinks again about Nikaido doing it with somebody else and the surge of irritation makes his stomach clench again.

He doesn’t want there to be anything Nikaido can do with somebody else but not him.

Holding Nikaido’s cock steady with one hand, Senga slides his mouth over it and down a few centimeters, testing. He tries not to think about the weirdness of having somebody else’s dick in his mouth and focus instead on the heat of Nikaido’s skin against his tongue and inside his hand, on the way Nikaido is already making little noises and squirming against him. Senga draws back and then lowers his head again, going a little farther, then again.

“You fucking tease,” Nikaido says, voice breathless. “Forget I said anything, just go for it, it’s easy, I swear.”

Senga rolls his eyes at how Nikaido is even a terrible liar during sex, then turns his concentration back to getting him off. There’s no way he can swallow all of Nikaido; his eyes tear up when he gets barely past halfway. But Senga knows how Nikaido likes to be touched well enough by now, so he makes up the difference with his hand, stroking Nikaido firmly while he sucks at as much of him as he can manage.

“Shit, Kenpi,” Nikaido murmurs, dragging hands through Senga’s hair. He’s a little rough about pulling, but for some reason it sends shivers over Senga’s skin rather than annoying him. “Just a little harder, come on.”

Senga does his best to obey, ignoring the way his jaw is getting tired and hollowing his cheeks. Nikaido gasps a warning, but before Senga can think whether to lift his head or what, Nikaido is coming over his tongue, the sharp, sudden taste making Senga splutter. It’s embarrassing, after Nikaido swallowed his so easily, but Nikaido only chuckles at him as he stretches lazily.

“It just surprised me,” Senga says defensively, reaching over to snatch a tissue and wiping at his mouth.

“Mm, whatever.” Nikaido reaches down to tug Senga up against his chest. He picks his head up just enough to kiss Senga, which makes Senga blink given where their mouths have just been, but Nikaido seems like he could hardly give a fuck. He slides his lips away from Senga’s, up his jaw to murmur in his ear, “Practice makes perfect, you know.”

Cheeks heating up, Senga gives Nikaido a shove and calls him a jackass, and they wrestle for a few seconds before settling back down. They should get up and put clothes back on, Senga knows, it is the middle of the day and it’s not like they’re alone, but Senga wants to stay as they are a bit longer.

“Is it like this after, with girls?” Nikaido asks, voice vague and sleepy.

“No,” Senga answers. Only one had wanted to cuddle after, and they hadn’t fit together very comfortably at all. Not the way he and Nikaido fit together. “It’s different with you. That’s why I asked—”

“Stupid, of course it’s different,” Nikaido interrupts, yawning. “Because we know each other best. It’s not like you’re gonna be best friends with some girl suddenly.”

Nikaido seems to feel like that settles that, and Senga has to admit that from that perspective, he’s exactly right. He tries to convince himself that it is settled over the next week, that he’s making a big deal out of nothing. But the next time he’s out at a club with his brother and some girl tries to pick him up, all Senga can think about is Nikaido’s dark eyes looking up at him and Nikaido’s hands on his skin. He lets her dance against him for two and a half songs before he finally gives up.

“I’m sorry,” he shouts over the music, pushing her back by the shoulders. She stares at him in surprise and then annoyance, which he deserves because he hadn’t stopped her at all from grinding shamelessly against him for the last ten minutes. “Sorry, you’re just not…” He stops himself from saying “my type” because wanting one guy in particular is hardly a type. The girl’s annoyance turns to a glare, and Senga escapes before he gets slapped across the face and they have a totally different sort of scandal on their hands.

Senga finds his brother to say he’s leaving and works his way outside, breathing a sigh of relief at the cool night air after the crush of people. His hands are shaking a little as he pulls his phone out of his front pocket (damn, he realizes, no wonder that girl had the wrong idea) and thumbs a mail before he can lose his nerve.

_Can I come over?_

It’s not at all that late, particularly by Nikaido standards, so naturally he gets a response right away.  _Sure. Just let yourself in._  Senga thinks about stopping home to shower the club (and the girl) off of him before heading over, but then he might just lose his nerve and stay home, because this isn’t just a normal visit to his best friend’s house. It’s not even a last-ditch attempt to get off with someone other than himself.

“I want you,” Senga greets him at the door, even more riled up at how casual and disheveled Nikaido is, like he hadn’t even bothered to brush his hair all day.

“Damn, okay,” Nikaido replies, but he only has a few seconds to react before Senga grabs him by the wide collar of his old T-shirt and crushes their mouths together. The door is still halfway open and the genkan isn’t that secluded from the main room—the rest of Nikaido’s family must be sleeping, not that Senga gives much of a fuck about that right now. They’d probably say that they already thought Senga and Nikaido were having a thing, too. Like everyone else.

“You smell like club skank,” Nikaido mutters between fire-hot kisses as they maneuver each other down the hall to Nikaido’s bedroom. It’s such a familiar path that Senga could navigate it blindfolded; however, Nikaido’s hands and mouth all over him provide enough distraction to bump against a few walls.

“She wasn’t you,” Senga replies without thinking, and Nikaido pauses for a half a second as they manage to close themselves in Nikaido’s room and sit on his bed. “It’s you who I want tonight.”

The Nikaido who always has something to say is quiet at that, and Senga starts to lose his arousal-induced confidence until Nikaido grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him down, stretching out neatly underneath him on his own bed. “Then have me.”

Senga’s nerves spark when Nikaido places a tube next to them on the mattress, then goes to work stripping off their clothes. It’s fast and hot and Senga’s brought right back to where he’d been in the club, grinding against something hard that grinds back and  _this_  is what he had wanted,  _this_  is what no girl could ever give him, along with the familiarity of Nikaido’s body. He skims fingers along Nikaido’s side, exactly where he likes it, just to make Nikaido squirm against him.

“Hey!” Nikaido protests when Senga keeps doing it, touching all the sensitive spots he can reach. “I thought you were in a hurry? Let’s go already!”

_Only to get to you,_  Senga barely stops himself from saying. He presses his mouth against Nikaido’s skin to keep from saying anything more embarrassing, kissing Nikaido’s shoulder, collar bone, and up his neck until Nikaido is whining steadily, clutching at Senga’s arms tightly. Senga doesn’t want to stop, tired of Nikaido rushing him through this part, but eventually Nikaido shoves him back.

“Please,” Nikaido begs desperately, looking so good with his mussed hair and dark eyes, his skin flushed halfway down his chest that Senga can’t refuse him. Senga sits up and reaches for the tube that Nikaido dropped next to them with one hand. He draws the other down Nikaido’s chest until it bumps into Nikaido’s cock and strokes him a few times before moving further down, between Nikaido’s legs.

“Have you ever done this before?” Senga asks, afraid of either answer. He hopes Nikaido knows what he’s doing, because he sure doesn’t, but on the other hand the idea of Nikaido spread out like this for anyone else makes Senga want to grind his teeth.

“Not this way,” Nikaido says, looking to the side. But then he turns his eyes back towards Senga, jaw set stubbornly. “It’s not like I’d let just anybody do this, you know!”

“I know,” Senga says, pretending to be occupied with getting lube on his fingers so that Nikaido won’t see how much that means to him. Sitting back on his knees, Senga rubs a slick finger over Nikaido’s rim. He touches him gently, but Nikaido still jumps. “Okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Nikaido closes his eyes, blowing out a slow breath through his nose. “Try just one at first.”

Senga goes as slow as he can, coaxing Nikaido’s body into letting him in. Nikaido feels amazing around him, slick and so hot, but Senga can’t imagine getting anything bigger than his fingers inside when Nikaido is so tight around him. It’s even hotter when he works a second finger in and Nikaido starts to shift down against him.

“Am I hurting you?” Senga asks, glancing up at Nikaido’s scrunched face.

“No,” Nikaido grunts. “You’re teasing me!”

Senga’s mouth forms an “O” of surprise when Nikaido groans suddenly and rolls his hips against Senga’s hand with purpose. He tries to keep his fingers just there, despite Nikaido’s squirming, until Senga curls his fingers almost on accident and Nikaido says his name in a way that Senga’s never heard anyone do it before.

“More?” Senga asks, and Nikaido can’t nod fast enough. He twists his fingers in the sheets, panting, as Senga gets the third finger in, but it turns into moaning faster than before, fast enough that Senga has to shush him before his mom comes in here thinking Senga’s murdering her son.

At least that’s what Senga hopes Nikaido’s mother would think was happening, but given everybody else’s opinion lately…

“Hey, focus!” Nikaido demands, snapping Senga’s attention back to him. “Come on, do you want me or what?”

“Yeah, I do.” Senga tugs his fingers free and leans up to kiss Nikaido fiercely before Nikaido gets out more than a whine. Nikaido grabs at his hair and rocks up against him and it’s so hot, way hotter than any girl could ever make Senga.

He thinks about saying something else, even making sure it’s really okay that Senga’s the one to do this to him for the first time, but Nikaido’s body gives more consent than his voice ever could and the next second has Senga inside him, pushing past that initial resistance after slathering more lube onto himself. It’s a thousand worlds away from either girl, probably any girl, and that’s the last comparison Senga wants to make with Nikaido all around him, beneath him, even inside him if not physically.

“Kento,” Nikaido breathes out, and Senga’s concerned for the half a heartbeat it takes for Nikaido to moan, ankles hooking around Senga’s waist to push him further in. “More.”

All Senga can do is groan as he gives Nikaido what he wants, gently rolling his hips until he feels the backs of Nikaido’s thighs against his own and realizes that he’s bottomed out inside of Nikaido. It’s so hot and tight and Nikaido’s muscles squeeze him so much that he doesn’t even have to move, just lie there kneeling between Nikaido’s legs and clinging to his torso, sweat already dripping from his hair.

“Move,” Nikaido gasps, fingers scraping Senga’s biceps like that will get him to do it. “Kento, please. I need you to move.”

“Okay,” Senga says, psyching himself up more than responding to Nikaido as he gives a test snap of his hips. It leaves him tingling all over and wild horses couldn’t stop him from doing it again. “Oh god, Nika.”

“Use my name,” Nikaido hisses, nails digging into Senga’s skin pointedly now. “When we’re like this, or from now on, whatever.”

“Takashi,” Senga rasps. Just saying Nikaido’s first name seems to take him higher, make him move faster. “Feels so good, Taka…”

“Yes,” Nikaido breathes, arching and tightening around Senga’s cock so much that he takes even more force to push through it. “Right there, Kento. Fuck me harder.”

Once again Senga follows directions, lifting his mouth to Nikaido’s upper chest and neck to kiss the wet skin. He doesn’t know if it’s from Nikaido’s sweat or his own, but it really doesn’t matter with Nikaido moaning, flinging his arm over his mouth as an afterthought, though honestly the consistent rocking of the bed is loud enough to clue the entire house into what they’re doing. Senga doesn’t care, not at this point, not with Nikaido so reactive underneath him, surrounding him.

Then an elbow bumps against Senga’s chest and everything gets so much tighter, leading Senga to press his face into Nikaido’s sternum to muffle his own noises as Nikaido’s arm moves between them, quickly jerking himself. “Kento, I’m gonna come,” he sputters.

“Me too,” Senga admits, leaning up enough to loop his arms around Nikaido’s thighs for the ultimate angle. “Takashi…”

Nikaido lets go first, although only by a fraction of a second before the squeeze of Nikaido’s body around him is too much and Senga comes right along with him. It seems to last ages, Nikaido clutching at him and moaning in his ear, drawing it out until Senga goes limp against Nikaido’s chest, sweat-soaked, panting like he’s run the length of Dome.

Even after he’s caught his breath, Senga stays right where he is, forehead pressed against Nikaido’s chest. He knows he should move, that Nikaido’s legs can’t be comfortable and Senga is probably crushing him, but staying like this is much less scary. So long as he doesn’t move, he won’t have to look Nikaido in the face, won’t have to try and talk about it or hear Nikaido say they’re just friends again.

It can’t last, though. After a couple minutes, Nikaido is shifting around, obviously uncomfortable. When he pushes at Senga’s shoulder, Senga peels himself off of Nikaido with a sigh and sits up. He stares at his lap while Nikaido stretches with a pained hiss.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks.

“It’s fine.” When Senga doesn’t respond, Nikaido punches him in the arm. “It’s  _fine_ , geez. Will you look at me? This is probably why those girls don’t want to fuck you a second time, idiot.”

“Nika…” Senga drags his eyes up to meet Nikaido’s. Nikaido looks nervous too, but he isn’t having any trouble meeting Senga’s gaze. “Takashi?”

“Do you want girls more than me?” he asks. Senga shakes his head. “Do you want anybody else?”

“I just want you,” Senga admits. His heart is trying to crawl into his throat and his hands are cold. “Sorry. I know we already talked about this…”

“Just shut up, okay?” Nikaido edges over until their shoulders are pressed firmly together. “Forget what I said before. I don’t want you doing it with anybody else either. Just me.”

“Yeah?” Senga’s chest tightens, a tiny bubble of hope springing up.

“Yeah,” Nikaido nods. “So…maybe you were right. I guess this is a thing after all.”

He offers Senga a small smile, and Senga can’t help but grin back, heart feeling suddenly light. He throws himself at Nikaido hard enough to knock him back down and kisses him fiercely, blood rushing when Nikaido works hands into his hair and kisses him back.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Senga asks when they come up for air. He has to lean back to see Nikaido’s face without his eyes crossing, and Nikaido makes a displeased noise at the lack of kissing.

“Are you?” Nikaido reaches up to poke Senga in the cheek. “You’re gonna have to tell Gaya he was right, you know. Also I am so fucking you next time, my thighs are killing me.”

“That’s fine,” Senga chuckles, not caring even a little bit, even when he’s the one who has to get up to clean both of them off and rub at Nikaido’s sore muscles.

The next day the two of them go into work together, and nothing feels different about it at all until they’re standing in front of the dressing room door. Even though he knows their whole group thinks they were already together, Senga feels nervous about letting them know they were right.

“We don’t have to tell them,” Nikaido shrugs, reading Senga’s concerns off his face without any words. “It’s not their business.”

“It’s not a secret,” Senga says. The group deserves to know something important like this. And he’s certainly not ashamed of being with Nikaido, not after all of this.

“Okay, then.” Nikaido grabs Senga’s hand, twining their fingers together so that no explanation is necessary, and then marches proudly through the door.

“See?” Fujigaya says as soon as they’re in the room, slapping Yokoo across the chest with the back of his hand. “I told you.”

“I told  _you_ ,” Yokoo retorts, plucking Fujigaya’s hand off of him with two fingers. He eyes Senga with a raised eyebrow. “And you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Senga admits, blushing when Nikaido leans over to kiss his cheek soundly. “It’s all Tackey-senpai’s fault anyway.”

“Gaya’s the one who caught the bouquet, though,” Tamamori speaks up suddenly, and all the eyes in the room swing to him and then to Fujigaya, sitting practically in Yokoo’s lap while they share a magazine.

“You dog,” Kitayama purrs, leering at them. “Something you two want to tell us?”

“What? No!” Fujigaya splutters, whining louder when everybody ignores him and starts planning their Dome wedding for them, Miyata gushing about love duets while Yokoo warns them skating with a 12-foot wedding dress train is no laughing matter.

“You could grow your hair back out for it, though,” he says, twirling a piece of Fujigaya’s hair between his thumb and forefinger.

“Watta!” Fujigaya wails, shoving at him. “Stop encouraging them!”

Senga chuckles, relieved the attention is off of the two of them, and tugs at Nikaido with their still-joined hands. “Hey. Want to come over tonight? That way your mom won’t get such an eyeful in the morning.”

“That’s what she gets for not knocking,” Nikaido grumbles, but he squeezes Senga’s hand and pulls him close for a proper kiss to say it’s a promise.


End file.
